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It's difficult to explain how much worse Glitter is than one might expect. To say it's awful is an egregious understatement. To say Mariah Carey was never meant to do anything more than sing is putting it very kindly. To say that the very idea of this film, a vehicle for the pop singer to play out a sentimentalized take on her own rags-to-VH1-Diva-dom-riches story, smacks of rank narcissism is putting it lightly. Judging from the reactions of the screening audience, whose laughter during the ostensibly most sobering moments in the film sometimes made it difficult to hear the dialogue, the only flashes of life here are provided by two canned shots of the Manhattan skyline revealing the Twin Towers in all their former glory. Those monolithic skyscrapers, in what amounts to less than a second of screen time, left more of an impression than Mariah did in her some-odd 100 minutes.